


A Friendly Debriefing

by Ralkana



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Episode Tag, Ficlet, M/M, Things You Don't Want to Think About Your Boss Doing for 200 Alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:50:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agents Ward and Barton have a conversation and come to an understanding or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friendly Debriefing

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine. I'm just playing with them.
> 
> Yeah, so, I told myself I wasn't going to write pilot fic and then this happened...
> 
> **Spoilers for the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. pilot ahead. Kind of. Yeah, a little.**

 

Grant is sitting at a table at the side of the mess, devouring the new Stephen King book on his tablet while he absentmindedly eats lunch. The dull hum of voices that surrounds him is muted, familiar, a far cry from Skye’s endless chatter and the sibling squabble of FitzSimmons on a roll. It’s almost soothing, like the roar of the ocean. He’s missed it almost more than he can say.

It’s suddenly interrupted by the scrape of the chair opposite him. He glances up and pauses in mid-bite as Hawkeye finishes flipping the chair around and straddling it, the muscles in his arms rippling threateningly as he crosses them on the back of the chair.

Grant isn't intimidated -- he _isn't_ , and he forks up another bite of his pasta to prove it. If it takes a couple of swallows to go down all the way, well, no one knows it but him.

And Barton, apparently, who's smirking at him. He reaches over and grabs the apple off Grant's tray, tossing it in the air once before shining it on the shoulder of his t-shirt.

"The thing about Coulson that you have to remember," he says conversationally, taking a bite of the apple and chewing for a moment, "Is that if he has two possible moves, and one of them is more batshit insane and ridiculously dangerous to himself, that's the one he's going to take every time, especially if it keeps more civilians safe. So you'll have to react accordingly to keep him in one piece."

Grant takes a sip of water as he assesses his next move. He glances around, and while people are looking at them curiously, no one is near enough to hear their conversation. He could play dumb, but a glance into Barton's cool eyes tells him that's not going to work.

"How'd you find out?" he asks eventually. "Did the Union Station video go viral? Skye mentioned that was a possibility."

Barton's eyes tighten momentarily at the mention of the incident in the train station, and then he huffs out a quiet laugh.

"Dude, it's fucking precious that you think I didn't already know," he says with another bite of apple. When Ward says nothing, he shrugs. "Romanov and I were senior SHIELD specialists long before we started hanging around with Captain Do-Right and his pals. I'm not exactly covert ops material anymore -- can't spend my days watching Coulson's six when there's paparazzi with long range lenses and teenage girls with Starkphones tracking Hawkeye's every move. So that's your job now."

"That's why you're here," Grant realizes, hearing the messy mix of emotions hidden in Barton's bland tone. They were friends, he knows. Strike Team Delta and their favorite handler. "Is this the part where you threaten me with something terrible if anything happens to him?"

Barton says nothing, those sharp eyes of his studying Grant's face as he takes another bite of apple, chewing it slowly as he stares.

"I don't think any threats are needed, do you, Agent Ward?" he says after a moment, face and voice perfectly, professionally polite. "I've done my reading. You're a good agent, if a little..." He trails off, gaze flicking down from Grant's face and back up again, and Grant has to fight not to shrug his shoulders or straighten his tie. 

"Stiff," Barton finishes. "You'll watch over Coulson because that's your job, and you're damn good at your job. Coulson wouldn't have picked you otherwise -- that's _his_ job. He always picks exactly who needs him most."

His voice has gone softer -- his eyes too, lost in some memory -- but before Grant can comment on it, his gaze is drawn by the shadow under Barton's chin, along his jawline. That's not just a bruise, it's a lovebite. A very new one.

Barton sees where his attention has gone, and his smile shifts into a filthy smirk. "You weren't the only one anxious to get home this morning, man."

Grant stares, all his words drying up in his throat, because Barton is implying, that he -- and… Coulson, it’s gotta be Coulson -- are -- they’re -- but... he stares at Barton in horror as his brain very unhelpfully begins to provide him with images that he _never asked for_ , dear God.

"Remember what I said about Coulson's on-the-fly tactical decision making, and enjoy your team's downtime, Ward," Barton says, still smirking. He stands up and flips the chair back around to push it under the table. Then, oh God, he _winks_. "I know I certainly will."

Grant can do nothing but stare after him in shock, barely resisting the urge to rest his head on the mess hall table and groan.

**END**


End file.
